“Am I just an opening to you? Just a hole to stick your..” she grabbed my junk through my trousers here - just typing this makes me wince in recollection, even though I can’t remember much of what she said after that. I think she slapped me, as well. No, later on she definitely slapped me. “Tell me the truth. Just the truth”. I remember that because I’m an abysmal liar, and quickly I started thinking about how to adjust my face... you understand, don’t you? To look dire and earnest. I know I’m just emitting a weird smile as faint as a scared rat’s heartbeat, but I honestly can't help it. Useless. “...wasting my fucking time with all this! Do I actually matter at all to you?”
“Yes! Of course you -” and I just broke down. I actually laughed. In this situation I actually laughed. What a bastard.

Since I’m writing this and therefore I can, I’ll be fair on myself: she was, after all, openly and directly insane. Like: “Hey how’s it going? Our basic perceptions of space and time are seriously at ends, and we are clearly operating on two quite separate planes of reality so I’m not even sure how this conversation is possible”. I was a man poking sticks into a pond, trying to retrieve his pants from the murky bed, and she was the resident goldfish whose entire world had just been redefined by this shattering intrusion. But, somehow, she always seemed to think she was the one peering on in from the outside. Maybe she had her own tiny little underwater fishbowl, with its own minuscule tadpole, in turn, contained within. Shit, maybe that tadpole was me. Or maybe she just knew something beyond all of us. She certainly knew something, and ferociously at that. You could see it in her face. I could see it in her face. She could see it in everything.